<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Encoded by Robin_Fai</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25057744">Encoded</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Fai/pseuds/Robin_Fai'>Robin_Fai</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Endeavour (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Awkward Flirting, I Don't Even Know, Non-binary Morse, Other, What Have I Done, he's the best of them really, jim is cute, what even is this?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:49:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25057744</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Fai/pseuds/Robin_Fai</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a random snippet scene of a non-binary Morse ending up as part of an investigation and turning the situation to their advantage.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Endeavour Morse/Jim Strange</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Encoded</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>People. I don't even know why I've written this. I've never been a Morse/Strange shipper. This was supposed to be Morse/Jakes but they had a mind of their own and just... here we are.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Morse watches the police officers tearing the office apart with a detached sort of interest. An analytical gaze follows their every action. </p><p>Why are they taking <i>those</i> papers? What use is it to go through the stacks of books just left out on the desk? Why leave the ones on the shelves? Aren’t they the least bit interested in the secret drawer in the desk? No. They’re probably not aware of that. Fingers twitch. The urge to tell them they missed it as they pack up is a burning need on the edge of the mind. Morse pushes it back. </p><p>There’s also a curiosity about the officers themselves. Inspector Thursday was polite enough when he presented the warrant although his suspicion when Morse asked to stay had been evident. He comes across as your average copper. You’re fine so long as you’re not standing between him and what he needs for justice. Morse is polite to him but keeps a distance. </p><p>Sergeant Jakes is… well he dresses nicely but he’s giving off vibes Morse has learnt to keep well clear of. Maybe he’s decent really. Or maybe he will be once someone helps him to settle. Right now the way he holds himself so precisely is dangerous. It’s like he’s keeping himself confined in his own image. He’d probably feel threatened by someone as mutable as Morse. He has got a very nice figure though. Jakes is the sort that would be a definite temptation if Morse saw him in a bar.</p><p>The only uniformed officer that actually seems to be thinking about what he’s doing and not just blindly following orders hesitates by the desk as the others file out. The Inspector and his Sergeant barely see him. More fool them. The man is giving off an air of quiet diligence. There’s something more intelligent in that gaze than he’s been given credit for. Morse wants to find out if he’s right about him. Is he the quiet, loyal, nondescript one that gets underestimated?</p><p>“Can I help you, Officer?” Morse asks Mr. Quiet-and-observant.</p><p>The officer looks between Morse and his superiors. They’re huddled over by the door of the office in deep conversation. He hesitates before speaking but Morse gets the feeling it’s not uncertainty but rather that he’s taking the time to consider his words.</p><p>“I was just wondering about this desk…” He says, sentence falling short as he reaches about for the correct form of address.</p><p>“Morse.” They says and they hold out their hand.</p><p>The officer shakes their hand without hesitation, a nice change from the usual, but then he speaks.</p><p>“Strange.” The officer says, and Morse’s heart sinks a little. They had so wanted him to be different. “Constable Strange.” Morse could kick themself. With a name like theirs how could they be so foolish as to jump to conclusions.</p><p>“A pleasure to meet you.” Morse says, holding onto Strange’s hand probably just a little too long. Although from the small smile that creases around his eyes, perhaps it isn’t wholly unappreciated. Morse resists the urge to run their palms together to try and hold onto the sensation by quickly shoving their hands into the pockets of their suit. “What was it you wanted to know about the desk?”</p><p>“Well, it’s just that it looks rather like one my Grandmother had.” Strange says.</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“And hers had this special drawer in the middle. Looked like an ordinary panel but it was actually a kind of secret hiding place.” A thoughtful frown creases Strange’s forehead. “She kept her knitting needles in it.”</p><p>“Knitting needles?”</p><p>“Yeah… I guess I never really thought about why until now.”</p><p>Morse can’t help but think Strange is living up to his name. Who keeps <i>knitting needles</i> in a secret drawer in the desk? Although that was his grandmother, not him. A sudden image comes to Morse of this steady looking police officer sitting at his desk knitting. It takes all of their self control not to laugh.</p><p>“Anyway, it got me to thinking about your desk and I was wondering if it had a drawer like that?” Strange says.</p><p>Morse smiles. So they had been right about this Constable Strange. He was far more intelligent and observant than he was being given credit for.</p><p>“It has indeed, Constable.” Morse gestures to the solid piece of furniture in question. “No knitting needles though I’m afraid.”</p><p>“No, you don’t exactly strike me as the knitting… type.” Strange says as he ambles over to the desk. “Would you mind showing me how it opens?”</p><p>Morse perches on a rare free spot on the top of the desk and watches as Strange stands back and examines the desk. Most people would be running their hands all over it trying to find a hidden button or catch that would open it. Strange, however, is clearly analysing before making a calculated action. Morse idly thinks how they wouldn’t mind having that level of consideration put into how to touch their body. They duck their head to hide the flush of colour that thought brings to their face.</p><p>“Open the top left drawer. There’s a catch hidden along the side. Then you just have to pull the moulding of the middle section.” Morse offers, after a moment of contemplation. </p><p>Constable Strange does as directed. There’s a quiet click that heralds his finding of the catch, but he pauses before opening the secret compartment.</p><p>“What am I going to find in here?” He asks, expression serious.</p><p>Morse shrugs. “If the person that’s trying to set me up for this is anywhere near as stupid as I think then only a bottle of whisky, some banking documents, and a few potentially scandalous photographs.”</p><p>Strange looks rooted to the spot all of a sudden. He looks down at the desk, clearly ambivalent as to whether to actually open the drawer after all. Eventually he sighs and pulls it open. </p><p>From the colour that floods Strange’s face rather rapidly Morse is certain that the photos are still there and very much visible. Morse wants to laugh. He seems like such an innocent. It was cruel really to land him with seeing those photos. Although it will no doubt answer some questions he might have had about Morse’s original pronouns. Some, but certainly not all.</p><p>Strange clears his throat and tentatively raises a hand to poke around in the contents of the drawer. He makes a funny little noise at one point that tells Morse the worst of the photos were not on the top of the pile. It’s rather cute actually, the way Strange is trying not to look but his eyes keep being drawn back to the one side of the drawer.</p><p>Morse knows they ought to be more concerned. What the police will do with the photos when they see them is concerning. Morse thinks of DI Thursday and DS Jakes, still in conference in the doorway, paying no heed to the goings on at the desk, and what the pair of them would make of Morse’s collection. It kills some of the humour, but for some reason Morse can’t find it in themself to really worry.</p><p>The quiet sound of the catch clicking back into place startles Morse out of their thougts. They look up at Constable Strange to find his expression is once more the impassive mask he wore when they first spoke.</p><p>“Well, that all seems to be in order. Nothing relevant to the case as far as I can see. Thank you for your assistance.” </p><p>Well that was unexpected. This Constable Strange is full of surprises. Morse watches as he makes his way back around the desk and towards the door. A reckless impulse strikes them and they stands and calls after the retreating officer.</p><p>“Constable Strange?” Morse calls. Strange turns back to face them with a curious expression. “I was wondering if you fancied a drink later?”</p><p>Strange considers the offer for a moment and then gives them a smile. </p><p>“Of course, matey. Where were you thinking?”</p><p>Morse quickly tries to think of a bar that would be both welcoming for them without having to put an effort into looking one gender or the other, and not too flamboyant for this poor innocent soul.</p><p>“The Unicorn? Say eight o’clock?”</p><p>Strange gives Morse another smile and their insides feel like they’re melting.</p><p>“Sure, sounds good. I’ll catch you there then.” He gives a friendly nod and then makes his way out of the room. </p><p>This was not at all how they had expected the day to go. Investigated by the police was par for the course. Too many people they had upset and the police were always far too glad to see them as a suspect. Asking an officer out on a date though? Now that was mad. Still, you never knew if you never tried, so what was the harm in having a drink? Morse looked to the clock – the evening couldn’t come soon enough.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well... I'm still lost why I wrote this but you got it in the hope someone other than just me finds this cute. It was meant to be female Morse but then went its own way. I do actually now have a multi-chapter female Morse fic in the works so hopefully you'll get to see that someday.<br/>Please do correct me if I got any of the pronouns wrong. I've only written non-binary once before and although I fully had that mindset for this Morse it is easy to slip out of habit and I really don't want that.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>